


Merry Christmas, Lieutenant Audebert. Again.

by U_Bahnstation



Category: Joyeux Noël | Merry Christmas (2005)
Genre: M/M, Post-World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21550261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/U_Bahnstation/pseuds/U_Bahnstation
Summary: You don’t have to invade Paris, to drop by for a drink
Relationships: Lt Audebert/Lt Horstmayer (Joyeux Noël)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Merry Christmas, Lieutenant Audebert. Again.

Half a year passed. Half a year after the end of the greatest war in human history. There was no military actions from previous November, but the piece was signed only in June. And now the Christmas was coming. The Christmas of 1919 year.

France was reborning from the ruins. And the house of Audebert’s family was reviving too. The piano sounded again, the ivy curled along the facade, fresh newspapers appeared every morning. Some days ago the big Christmas tree was brought to the living room, and now small Henri was admiring glass balls on it.

Piece and idyll at house were clouded only by distressing sadness of Lieutenant Audebert. Time after time came he to the window, as if he was waiting for someone. But after standing for some minutes, turned away and sighed. Madam Audebert watched him, but asked nothing.

***

Twilight was covering Paris. Rare snow was falling, and it looked more like it was raining. The lamplighters lighted the lanterns. Lieutenant Audebert was sitting in his cabinet and watching through the notebook with drawings. That one, in which he had drawn his wife after loosing the wallet. But at the moment he was contemplating other sketches. Here are the Christmas trees near the German trenches, happy lieutenant Gordon, a little bit drunk Ponchel with a bottle of beer, father Palmer with bagpipes, lieutenant Horstmayer looking somewhere far away... Of course, the drawings are not the photos, but they also can full the heart with melancholy.

“Drop by for a drink, if you are to Paris. Like a tourist.” - was it just a sign of politeness? Or was he waiting to see the German on the threshold of his house? Audebert believed in the second answer. The childish naivety made him open the door, looking to strangers’ faces and wait... It was stupid. But lieutenant accustomed himself to this silent melancholy. But now, in Christmas Eve it was so big, that absorbed him completely.

\- Why are you so sad, père? - small Henri was standing with the cracker in his hands.

Father asked him to come closer and put him on his knees.

\- Père, who is he? - asked the boy poking with his finger in Horstmayer’s forehead.

\- He is my friend, dear. My good friend...  
  
\- Why haven’t I seen him in our house?  
  
\- Because he is so far far away.

Small Henri became serious, - Is he dead? Was he killed by enemies?

\- I don’t know. Now I don’t know anything about him. I believe, that he is alive. That all of them are... - he looked through the drawings one more time and then closed the notebook.

Some long minutes it was really silent. Henri interrupted it with his question, - Do you miss him?  
  
\- Miss who, dear?  
  
\- That Monsieur, your good friend?

Lieutenant Audebert closed his eyes, - Yes, I probably do. Sometimes even too much. But now you should go. Ta mère waits you.

\- I will go, - said the boy, getting down from father’s knees, - if you promise to come!

\- I promise, Henri. I will come soon.

He was missing Horstmayer. Even if he was afraid to admit it. In other circumstances they could have... Have what? Lieutenant didn’t give himself the answer. He just wanted to get back. Yes, to get back to those days, to those trenches, just to see him one more time... He sighed. He mustn’t recall it. 

***

All the family was sitting at the living room. The candles were burning and some bottles of good wine were waiting for guests. Some hours were left before the holiday, and now hosts and maidservants were enjoying the sweet hours of calm. General Audebert with small Henri on his knees smiled happily, looking his daughter-in-low pouring hot coffee. Lieutenant Audebert was sitting at the piano. The only thing which was spinning in his head was the motive of Sprink’s song, but he didn’t want to play it by his father...

Someone ringed the doorbell. At first neatly, then louder and insistently.  
  
\- Dear, who could come so early? Are you waiting for anyone?  
  
\- No, all guests are to come later.

Madam Audebert put the coffeepot on the table, - I asked Marie to bring some sweets. I will open myself.

The doorbell ringed one more time.

  
-What an impatient guest! - she hurried to the door.  
  
The lock clicked, the door was opened with silent creak, the pause. “Can I see lieutenant Audebert?” 

Madame Audebert’s voice sounded surprised, - Dear, here is one Monsieur. He wants to see you...

Audebert went somehow loudly to the door, - Why don’t you ask the guest to drop by... - lieutenant stoped near the opened door. It was impossible. But it happened. He was standing here, in Paris, near his house. And he looked absolutely the same like in those times. Or almost the same. He was standing in his gray coat leaning on the cane and looked closely in Audebert’s eyes.

\- Why don’t you ask the guest to drop by for a drink? - ended he the phrase, - You were right, I didn’t have to invade Paris for it! 


End file.
